


Boggarts Never Lie

by Mohini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Flashbacks, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mohini/pseuds/Mohini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about a boggart is that they don't understand about keeping secrets. They grab your fears and put them on full display, with no regard for who might be watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boggarts Never Lie

Harry stood in the corner of the Defense classroom, eying the tall cabinet in the front of the room with a look that could probably have killed. The cabinet was rocking back and forth, obviously housing a boggart. He was half considering all the many ways he was going to make whomever decided this was a good idea pay. Honestly, a school full of students who had witnessed untold horrors and the idiotic Ministry had declared that all Hogwarts students 3rd year and above had to be refreshed on boggart dispatching? He was fairly certain their Professor shared the sentiment, as Charlie Weasley, who had been conscripted into the position in an effort to keep Molly Weasley’s children close to home, stepped to the front of the room with a grim expression on his face.

“Alright, I am going to just get this out of the way. Do not hex me for this lesson. Not my choice. Our friends at the Ministry, who of course know far more than I do about what you need to be taught, have decided I am going to spend the next week watching my students face everything you least want to see ever again. Professor Slughorn has provided a nice stock of calming potions, which will be available to all of you after class. Since you are all of age, I’ve provided a bit of extra comfort by way of Odgen’s Finest. Once we are done here, you are welcome to a bit of whatever works best for you. I’ve spoken with Professor Flitwick. Charms is cancelled for today to give you all some recovery time. So, let’s get this over and done, shall we?” He looked around the class, which was made up of all the 8th years from the various houses. The group numbered far fewer than they had on their sorting day so many years before. 

He motioned for them to queue up and Harry hazarded a glance across the room. Terrified eyes met his, and he nodded silently. He watched as the slightly trembling figure took their place in the queue, standing between Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. The cabinet was unlatched with a quick flick of Charlie’s wand, and the images before them began. The boggart was flashing between dead bodies of friends and relatives, dark creatures that they had faced in the battle and the days leading to it, the evil grins of the Carrows, the snake Nagini, and Bellatrix LeStrange. Harry quietly dispatched a dementor with a patronus and stepped away, leaning against the wall and watching as the rest of his classmates met their fears. He watched Hermione bodily shove Ron aside when he froze before the dead figure of Fred. The boggart promptly became a laughing Bellatrix, who was dealt with in Hermione’s clear, calm voice and suddenly wore a bright pink tutu and toe shoes. 

The Slytherins came to the head of the queue and Theodore faced down Nagini, and then Draco Malfoy stepped up. He was still trembling, and when the boggart spotted him, the imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy stood before them. Lucius said something, and Draco began shaking his head frantically, his wand hand so unsteady that he couldn’t seem to cast the charm. The boggart advanced on him, and he sank to his knees, screaming in the most pitiful sound Harry thought he had ever heard for him to leave him alone. He found himself staring at Pansy, hoping she would do something, anything, to stop this. Stepping in himself was out of the question. Draco had told him a thousand times he was not ready for anyone to know who he was with. Then the boggart leaned down and said something else to Draco, and Harry watched his eyes go wild, clearly losing any hold he had on the present before passing out completely. Pansy stepped over his limp form and faced down the boggart, which had opted to become a Death Eater, presumably her own father. She cast the charm in a cold, clear voice, and the figure melted, leaving nothing but a vapor behind. 

Watching as Pansy awkwardly attempted to wake Draco while shooting pointed looks toward the Gryffindor students, Harry decided he would deal with the consequences later and stepped forward, taking the other boy into his arms and holding him close. It took a few minutes, even with repeated reenervate charms, before Draco’s eyes fluttered open. He managed to focus on who was holding him and buried his face in Harry’s robes before he began to cry. Harry simply held him, rocking back and forth with him in his lap and running his hand in circles on his back. Hermione and Pansy were herding their fellow students out of the room, and Harry heard the door close firmly in their wake. Draco whimpered in his lap once his tears finally slowed, and Harry brushed a hand across his face, wiping the tears from his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t just leave you,” he told the skinny blonde in his arms. Draco looked back at him, eyes still tear bright.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispered back, his voice ragged from his tears. He was so tired. Everything ached, and his head was pounding. “I feel like shit.”

“You hit the floor pretty hard. Wouldn’t be surprised if you have a bit of a concussion. Do you want me to take you to Pomfrey?”

Draco looked at him in disbelief. “We’re alone. Heal it for me,” he said, wondering if perhaps he wasn’t the only one who had hit his head. Harry was alarmingly good at healing charms and would almost certainly do a faster job than the matron. He knew Harry couldn’t do much of it with a wand, having learned the skill wandlessly to survive summers with the Dursleys, but no one was around to see him do it. Harry was adamant that no one find out that he could cast anything unusual without his wand.

Harry put one hand on the back of Draco’s head, closed his eyes, and focused on repairing the damage from the fall. For good measure, he cast a strong pain blocking charm to handle any residual effects before removing his hand. When he was finished, Draco was practically purring as the pain vanished. 

“So, about that whole not telling anyone thing. I think our year mates might have noticed something,” Harry said lightly, hoping he hadn’t made a colossal mistake.

“Might? I woke up in your lap in a classroom full of every single 8th year student and proceeded to have a bawling fit in your arms. A mountain troll couldn’t have missed that!”

“Alright. So what do we do now?” Harry asked. 

“Now? I need a drink. A really big, really strong drink. With a stunning charm chaser. Fuck all. The man is dead and he still scared the living hell out of me. In front of fucking everyone in our year.” As he spoke, the realization of what exactly everyone had seen hit him. 

Harry had seen enough of Draco’s panic attacks to know what was coming when he tensed in his arms. Wrapping his hand tightly around the back of Draco’s neck, he cast a very strong calming charm, practically sedating him. Draco went limp against him, his breathing slowing down and eyelids drooping. He stood up with his semiconscious boyfriend in his arms and cast a disillusionment charm on them before heading for the 7th floor and the room of requirement. The charm would keep him under control for a little while, but he knew Draco needed to get this out of his system, and the room would provide a safe, secluded place for him to get through it. 

Once there, he placed Draco on the bed and laid down next to him. They had done this so many nights when Draco woke from a nightmare and sent an owl asking him to meet. Even semiconscious, the taller, thinner boy pressed himself against Harry, and they remained that way for quite a long time until the charm finally wore off. When he woke fully, he found Harry running his hand absently up and down his spine. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too,” Harry told him, kissing him lightly. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No,” Draco replied, shuddering a bit. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Harry pressed. Draco nodded, closing his eyes tight and all but burrowing into Harry’s shoulder.

“Boggart. Father. Panicked. Passed out. You woke me up. Cried. A lot.” He said haltingly, obviously struggling to keep himself calm. 

“Drink please?” Draco asked. Harry nodded, reaching for the bottle of vodka the room had provided on the bedside table. He held it for Draco, steadying his grasp as he watched him drink most of it down in huge gulps. When he let go of it, there were only a few shots remaining. Draco took several deep breaths, fighting his gag reflex after having consumed the alcohol so quickly. The he tugged it toward himself once more and Harry watched as he drained the remaining clear liquor from the bottle. This, too, was practically ritual between them. Draco would drink as much as he could get down as fast as possible. This gave him the excuse of being utterly and completely wasted in order to allow him to break down, if only for a little while. 

He continued to take very slow, deep breaths for several moments, and Harry found himself looking around to ensure that the room had provided a basin. He spotted it on the table where the bottle had been. The aftermath of Draco’s drinking was never pretty. He rubbed Draco’s back, speaking softly as he reassured him that everything would be alright. “I’ve got you. All safe now. Let it go, love,” he told him, knowing that Draco needed to hear the permission in his voice, needed to know that he was right there. 

The quiet, slow breathing morphed into soft sobs, and Draco cried against him, mumbling about his supposed weakness in allowing his father to frighten him even after he was dead and gone. Harry knew better than to try to argue with him. After a while, Draco was slurring about everyone now knowing what had happened to him, and that everyone had seen what his father did. Eventually, the sobs died down and he looked sadly up at Harry. “Not a secret anymore,” he whispered.

Harry knew without needing explanation that Draco was talking about his father’s abuse more than their relationship. “Never again. No one is ever hurting you again.” He told the other boy, hoping his words were reassuring.

“Gonna get the fuck hexed out of me. Corrupting their damn hero,” Draco said bitterly.

“Anyone who tries answers to me,” Harry told him. Draco nodded. 

“Love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” Harry replied, leaning down to kiss Draco softly, tasting tears and vodka on his lips. 

“Weasley’s going to kill us both,” Draco mused. 

“Only if Blaise doesn’t get to us first,” Harry told him. Draco laughed at that. Then his eyes went wide and Harry reached reflexively for the basin. 

“Ugh,” Draco whined as he leaned over it, his stomach contracting violently before the vodka came up in a gush of liquid. Harry rubbed his back and held his hair away from his face while he vomited up what he had consumed. Once he was finished, Harry withdrew his wand and vanished the contents of the basin. 

“Done for now or is there more?” he asked him. Draco shrugged, his face alarmingly pale. “Best to get it over with, love,” he reminded him softly. Draco had the misfortune of being allergic to some of the ingredients in hangover potion, and if he didn’t get the alcohol out of his system now, there would be hell to pay later. Draco nodded, shuddering against him before leaning over the basin once more and bringing his hand to his mouth. He plunged his fingers into his throat, searching out the spot that reliably tripped his gag reflex. Then he repeated the process a few more times until he was certain his stomach was fully empty.”Done now,” he whispered.

Harry moved the basin aside and settled Draco back against his chest, the other boy barely able to hold his head up. Cathartic though this always was, his ritual of drinking until he was ill exhausted Draco and never failed to worry Harry. “Go to sleep, love,” he whispered, stroking Draco’s hair and watching as his eyes drifted closed once more. Harry leaned back against the pillows and dozed himself, keeping both arms wrapped around Draco as he slept. 

It was evening by the time Draco woke up. “Hey, you,” Harry said quietly, running a hand down Draco’s face. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered. “Throat hurts.”

Harry took the hint and ran his hand down Draco’s neck, casting a couple of quick healing charms as he went. “Now?” he asked.

“Perfect,” Draco replied. “Have we managed to miss dinner or will we be practicing dueling skills in the Great Hall tonight?” 

“Should be just about in time for mealtime dueling,” Harry replied. “I meant what I said earlier. Anyone touches you and they will regret it.”

“Damn. I almost feel sorry for them,” Draco mused, climbing out of the bed and stretching his long limbs. He reached a hand out to help Harry up. The two left the room, and for once, did not let go of one another as they went through the corridors. Harry had one arm protectively around Draco’s waist as they entered the Great Hall. True to his word, within ten minutes, seven different people were stunned and immobile on the floor after attempting to hex Draco. 

“Anyone else want a go?” Harry asked, his voice echoing in the space. Not one person answered his summons. He looked at Draco and then kissed him soundly. “I believe that settles that, then,” he told him, and led him to the Slytherin table, where the pair of them sat down next to Blaise Zabini. Given that three of the stunned students were from Gryffindor, Harry was not in the mood to sit with his own house.

Not one member of Slytherin house had attempted to hex either of them. It was the only house with that distinction. Pansy, sitting a few feet from where the two boys had seated themselves, looked questioningly at Draco. He was still pale and if you looked carefully enough, his hands were trembling the tiniest bit. He ate mechanically, and Pansy noticed that at one point, he whispered something to Potter, who wrapped an arm around his waist and held him close for a few moments. 

After the meal, Harry kept his arm tightly around Draco’s waist as they left the room. They had made it most of the way down one of the corridors when Harry whirled around, flinging Draco behind him and hurling a couple of silent hexes at a pair of 7th year students, intercepting the curses they had attempted to cast. One of them was Ginny Weasley. Harry advanced on them quickly, wand still raised. “Did I not make myself clear earlier?” He asked, his voice hard enough that Draco found himself very, very grateful that he was not the one who had made him angry. “Draco is mine. You. Will. Not. Harm. Him.”

Ginny glared up at him from the floor, unable to move thanks to the full body bind on her. Ron and Hermione, having heard the commotion, came running. Upon seeing his sister on the ground and Harry seething above her, Ron took stock of the situation and shook his head. “Mum is going to hear about this,” he said in a calm voice. Harry was ready to argue when he realized that Ron was speaking to Ginny. “What in Merlin’s name were you thinking, Gin? You seriously tried to attack Harry? Because I know he wouldn’t have hexed you without a damn good reason.” Then he stepped over her on the floor to hold out a hand to Harry.

“All right?” he asked. Harry nodded.

“All right, Ron,” Harry replied, loosening his protective hold on Draco, who was still practically plastered to his back since Harry had chosen to use himself as a human shield. Ron looked calmly at the thin blonde.

“Not going to say this is going to be easy, Malfoy, but if Harry wants you, I’m not arguing with him. He’ll hex me to Muggle Hell and back before he gives up something he wants. Truce?”

Draco blinked a few times, trying to decide if he was hallucinating. Harry had just hexed his ex-girlfriend and sister of his loyal sidekick. Said sidekick had then reprimanded Ginny and offered a truce to Draco. Then he noticed that a large freckled hand was being held out towards him, palm up. He took it, hesitating only a moment before clasping it tightly. “Truce, Weasley,” he replied, thankful that his voice remained steady. Hermione, who had known about the pair since the previous summer, looked on with relief evident in her face.


End file.
